I used to think that high-profile coaches wanted nothing to do with the fans. Sure, every head man at every major American university would tell the students that they were of paramount importance to the program, but who really believed them?

Bob Davie told us we were important. That's right. He told us exactly seven times, once at each pep rally when he was forced to comply with age-old Notre Dame traditions that mandated a pep talk from the coach.

Maybe it's just me, but those "rah rahs" never seemed sincere. I still looked at Davie as being in his own world of 5-7 seasons. The rest of us dwell in a far different universe. I just assumed all coaches were like that.

They'd tell you one thing, whatever it was you wanted to hear. They would disappear into their cushy office and stay as far away from the student body as possible.

Then I met Coach Doherty. I recently had the pleasure of listening to basketball's new savior speak at Sorin Hall. I emphasize "pleasure" because Doherty's talk was really that enjoyable.

He was sincere and he was speaking not simply because someone told him it would be good publicity. Sorin was just the most recent stop on Coach Doherty's ambitious campaign to visit every residence hall and get to know the students, his fans. Instead of telling us what we wanted to hear, Doherty made a concerted effort to get a feel for the concerns of his students.

He began the appearance, which lasted well over an hour, by asking how many of the students present had seen the St. John's game. He asked those who hadn't attended what exactly had refrained them from going. He was a businessman trying to market a product, not just wanting to look good.

It's unusual to get any sort of valuable information from an important coach. Many coaches seem to relish the fact that they know more than we do, and they see the passing of relevant information as a transfer of power.

Coach Doherty once again shattered the mold. He spoke candidly on subjects ranging from next year's schedule to the recruits he was after. He saw us as equals and genuinely wanted us to view him in that same fashion. Doherty, by his own admission, had had a long day.

He had been up until 5 in the morning, watching West Virginia game film. He later arrived at work by 8 a.m. — no small miracle for a man that has two young children.

As tired as he was Doherty could have rushed the session, but instead he answered every last question. He told every Michael Jordan story that he could remember and most importantly, made sure those that attended saw their time well spent. Even when the talk had finished, a weary Doherty stuck around to chat with a few stragglers. Always with a smile, he responded to every inquiry and shook every hand.

I can't begin to say how impressed I was with Notre Dame's new basketball coach. This was a guy whose team I wanted to support. You just had that feeling that he went home to a regular house and drove a regular car. You knew that he lived in our regular universe.

I know I'll see Bob Davie at the first pep rally next fall. I just might see Matt Doherty in the dining hall or during the first round of Bookstore.

Thanks, coach.

• Good publicity is not everything